A Winn3r is You:  Time, Death, and Conflict
by Clement Rage
Summary: Moebius, Mortanius, and Malek enter a mysterious tournament on another world for no valid reason.  Should be fun.
1. Chapter 1

_Entry no 2 to Avatarjk137's tournament. For details, see his profile, a link to which can be found in the reviews page of my other entry, A Winn3r is You: Three More Heroes._

_There's a quite long footnote at the end of this chapter, but here is one detail you will need to bear in mind in your research. My three fighters are all still sane and uncorrupted. Malek is still a human wearing armour rather than an animated suit of armour, Mortanius hasn't been possessed yet, and Moebius is still trusted by the other two. In other words, this takes place more than five centuries before Blood Omen, the first instalment in the (AWESOME) Legacy of Kain game series._

**Invitation**

The trouble with omniscience, Moebius had long known, was boredom. The Sarafan Purge had eradicated all of the lowborn vampires, with Nosgoth purged but for Audron, high in his tower, and Vorador's brood, hidden in Termogent Forest. In six years time, the crusade would have their chance to eradicate the last Ancient, but Moebius would in doing so sacrifice his finest warriors. Moebius was cursed, or blessed, with prior knowledge of his path. What he would do to Malek had haunted him for decades, but God could not be defied by one such as he.

He had not foreseen the arrival of his visitors. His guise as the Oracle, dispensing benevolent advice to those who braved a maze of monsters, minions and traps, was mostly a diversion, some benevolence to build his reputation until he finally gave the counsel that mattered. He had arrived this time of habit, expecting nothing, but here the visitors were, traversing his maze, unaware that he watched in the surface of his cauldron.

He had almost forgotten the taste of uncertainty. Nonetheless, it would be unwise to leave his fate to chance.

"Malek," he whispered, "I may need you."

* * *

Sakyo watched as another of his demons was pulled down by four undead warriors. Not one of _his _demons, he'd convinced Hell to donate a few for the purposes of this expedition. A few demons were of those native to Nosgoth, to provide his target with a sense of familiarity. They were not directly subject to hell, but had been subcontracted as his bodyguards.

Perhaps it might have been simpler to speak with their quarry at the Sarafan Stronghold, and directly ask for an audience with the Time Guardian, but that way would leave an army of fanatical knights at the man's back, unleashed at his command. Hell did not wish to devote resources to an unnecessary pitched battle. Thus, here they were.

He reached for the switch, clearing a path through the ankle high barrier of spikes, and they found themselves in an antechamber, bedecked with myriad items.

A large black heart on a pedestal, bloodless yet beating still.

A sword, skull motif on the hilt, driven through a brown scrap of cloth.

Guillotine, fresh blood staining the blade. One of his retinue dipped a finger and licked it.

"Vampire."

Sakyo nodded. "Of course."

A cracked helmet, carved with a pattern of roses.

They studied the display for a time, before the ex-BORED executive gestured his guards deeper, to a room where an old man in long robes stirred a cauldron. He looked up, his grey eyes (irises and pupils the same shade) reflecting the firelight.

"Visitors ... seeking wisdom? Ask."

"Moebius? I'm a representative of an organisation holding a tournament on another world. We were wondering if you could recommend competitors, given your extensive knowledge of this...environment."

Many would have been surprised at the revelation of worlds existing beyond their own, but Moebius was either unsurprised or an excellent actor...likely both.

"Moebius? Seek for him at the Stronghold. I am but the Oracle of Nosgoth, dispensing wisdom to those who cross my path."

"No games, Moebius. You think you're a master of them, but you haven't met my backers."

A glint of teeth under the hood. "Is that a challenge, sirrah?"

"If you like."

"To...arrange a meeting? I think not. Tell me, what would happen should I refuse to cooperate?"

"We would leave."

"I see."

Sakyo grinned. "Honesty. Wrongfoots you, doesn't it?"

"Unusual, I admit. All know me for a master of games, yet always they seek to play more. I see their plans before they do."

"Did you notice...I neglected to say we would leave you alive." A blink. He'd surprised the Time Streamer himself.

"To kill me now would devastate the future."

"My masters don't care for the future of this world." The Nosgoth born demons twitched at his side. Moebius cocked his head.

"I think you'll find that _they_ do... or their masters, at least. My purges coincide with their interests, for the moment." The demons twitched again.

"For the moment, Moebius? A misstep? Surely not."

A genuine, warm smile. "You interest me. Contenders, you say? I will think on it. Would you like rooms in the fortress while I consider? You've cut quite a path to find me, I must needs repair it."

"Or we could kidnap you."

A sigh. "And you were doing so well."

The nearest fire demon suddenly had the blade of a spear embedded in its throat, leaking green blood. Not fatal, the creature staggered as the blade swept its legs from under it...a twelve foot tall horned demon, toppled by a mere man, an armoured knight, standing in the centre of the room with polearm raised. They'd seen him lurking in the shadows when they entered, but Sakyo had honestly been surprised to find a man in full plate armour moving so _quickly._ Stepping onto the downed demon, the knight,

-_Malek the Paladin, Ward of the Circle-_

drove his blade into the creatures left eye until it stilled, before lifting the spear to face them again, braid of scalped victims trailing from the back of his helmet. Moebius retreated to the far side of the room as Malek stepped back from the demon, waiting for the others to come at him. Sakyo's bodyguards tensed.

The demon on the ground twitched, and slowly rose to face its allies, blood still leaking from its wounds, the remaining eye staring vacantly as it assumed a battle stance.

Moebius almost smiled.

"Mortanius."

"I was with Malek when he heard your command." the Necromancer stated, demonic guards parting before him as he walked into the room, "and your wording interested me. '_may'_ need him? Why might that be?"

He was wearing his Death Mask, giving him the appearance of an animated corpse shrouded in a black robe, but Mortanius was probably the most powerful sorcerer in Nosgoth. He snapped his fingers, and a half dozen skeletal warriors emerged from the ground. "Who are these?"

"They seek competitors for a tournament on some other plane of existence, and came to me for knowledge. _Moebius_, not the Oracle."

"What manner of tournament?"

Moebius looked at Sakyo.

"Teams of at least three compete at challenges."

"That is... vague."

Sakyo shrugged. "The details are still being finalised. Are any of you good at cooking?"

The Nosgothians looked at each other, even the Oracle mystified at Sakyo's sudden smile.

"We will consider it."

And all three vanished in a glow of teleportation magic.

_The Sarafan Stronghold..._

" 'Are any of you good at cooking?'" He expects us to participate!" Moebius paced the room, watched by the other nine Pillar Guardians and the six Generals of the Sarafan, the order he'd set up to purge the land of the vampiric plague.

"Or he was merely hungry," Malek suggested, smiling behind his helmet. "Your cauldron is quite suggestive, my Lord."

"Can you think of any other contenders? Vorador or Audron, perhaps?" Mortanius.

"Too dangerous. Though I would like for them to disappear for a time, there is a great risk they might return bearing new knowledge or allies. We know little of these tournament organisers. What is the benefit of assembling participants from different worlds? The process must demand resources. No, they're playing some other game."

"Decapitating the Sarafan Order, perhaps." The Dimension Guardian.

"Doubtful. 'My masters don't care for the future of this world'. If he cares nothing for Nosgoth, the Order can hardly be of concern."

Mortanius looked at him. "You're intrigued."

"...Yes, but...teams of three. I would not risk you all. What if the vampires take advantage of our absence?"

"You could bequeath your staff to another for a time." Moebius' staff, which he was seldom seen without, had the power to instantly incapacitate any vampire within its range once activated. Moebius looked around, settling on the Sarafan Generals. One among them was known for his dutiful nature.

"Turel, come forward." The General stepped to meet them, and Moebius extended his staff. "Guard this, and the Guardians, with your life. Even Vorador can't escape its effects."

He looked around to a ring of faces. Mortanius dismissed his Deathmask, allowing the others to read his expression.

"I had not thought you had decided to go. The risks..."

"I tire of omniscience, Mortanius. I've forgotten the...thrill... of not knowing what is to come." Pause. "I won't ask you to come with me."

Malek stepped forward. "I'm sworn to protect the Circle, Moebius, and you go to a place of risks. I will follow. Turel, I have no talisman to bequeath to you, but you will be Ward to the other members until our return. Guard them well." The General nodded.

Mortanius shrugged. "The two of us have faced down armies. What greater perils could this tournament offer?"

In a plush hotel room in Metropolis, Moebius examined a system of piping, twisting the switch which resulted in water emerging from the device.

"Convenient. Doubtless expensive, but...No matter."

His companions were making similar explorations of their surroundings. When enough water pooled in the basin, Moebius the Time Streamer, robbed of his omniscience in this realm, began scrying. It was time to find out what they were dealing with. There would be challenges to come, but Moebius would have knowledge. He had two other advantages, of which even his companions knew nothing.

The first, a sword he hadn't needed to draw in over two centuries.

The Second, a portable Time Streaming Device.

**There it is, folks, entry no 2. I love this fandom to the point of insanity, so I may throw in quite a lot of needless references to canon. If in doubt, by all means ask me. The artefacts in the Oracle's antechamber are a testament to Moebius' greatest victories in the canon...in the game, his museum contains artefacts symbolising significant events (past and future) in the life of his visitor. Since he can't know anything about Sakyo, I changed them...the only canononical one is the guillotine.**

**Okay, so, the characters. **

**Malek is a standard fantasy superfighter with a few twists. He's a knight sworn to protect the others at all costs, and regularly fights and defeats vampires. In one FMV, the most powerful vampire in the canon(at the time) ambushes him from behind, and Malek somersaults forward, spins in midair and lands facing his attacker, while wearing full plate armour.**

**Mortanius is probably the most magically powerful human in the canon. Summons undead to fight for him, but also has at least one attack resembling Sith Lightning. **

**And Moebius. Physically, he seems pretty weak, but it's hard to tell as both he and Mortanius go into their bossfights playing to lose. Talents include oration, scrying, illusions, and manipulating those who threaten him. An oracle, in his homeworld his omniscience is almost absolute, but that's not relevant to the tournament. I added the sword to allow me not to have his every hostile encounter becoming a monologue. It'll probably only be used for backstabbing and straightforward kills. His illusions can be either just images or actual solid beings that can deal damage.**

**Oh, and the 'God' referred to in the text is not the Christian/Jewish/Muslim God. Just so you know.**

**I think that's everything. Enjoy. May the best contestant win!**


	2. Vs Irken Invaders

_Here's the first one from the pillar guardians. Smoke, you know the canon, so let me know if any of this feels strange. Malek is hard to write, since you only fight him after his curse, but he was still a Sarafan General and Conflict Guardian as a human, so he was still pretty powerful. Good luck to my opponent. Oh, and Moebius can't read minds, he's just been spying on every other competitor._

**Pillar Guardians v. Irken Invaders(Alohilani)**

Malek of the Sarafan had been on many fields of battle. He'd sparred with fellow knights, he'd fought blade to blade with vampires. He'd fought the occasional duel. But he'd very rarely fought children, or dogs –Some vampires had wolf forms, but attack dogs were usually exclusively a Sarafan tool...a useful one, that helped to negate some of the vampiric methods of concealment. And he'd certainly never had the opportunity to fight moose, mini or otherwise. So, all in all, this was going to be a new experience for him.

The grassy field that was to be their battleground was dotted with bales of hay and low brick walls, expressly designed to impede attack and closing with targets. He was a knight, he was above such parlour games, but if Moebius and Mortanius were willing to lower themselves to this, there was little he could do but follow. Such was the curse of being Ward of the Circle.

Moebius, being one of the least combative of the three of them, was above on the platform with the... dog..._green _dog? Anyway, with luck, it wasn't dangerous. The opposing team didn't appear especially threatening, but children with vampiric strength could be surprising. This was...embarrassing...did they really think this 'Zim' was going to be a threat?

* * *

Invader Zim hissed through his teeth, watching his adversaries advance. The one with the infinity sigil on his forehead was watching without much interest...it appeared they weren't even taking him seriously. Well, Minimoose would teach them the error of their ways. The others were nowhere to be seen from his position, but he had no doubt they were close.

"Ninety minutes. Time starts now!"

The moose squeaked and floated forwards.

* * *

"Mortanius, leave this to me."

"What?"

"A child and pets? Don't demean me, my Lord."

_Leave him be, _said Moebius in Mortanius' mind. _He may be right. And if not, any surprises that are sprung will be known to us._

"As you wish." Mortanius walked to the edge of the arena, to where a semi circle of stacked bales formed a basic fortress, to be used for 'capture the flag' style events, where one team had to hold off the enemy soldiers. It was far from impregnable, but would serve. Skeletal minions began populating the fortification as Malek advanced in plain sight.

He reached the moat unchallenged, and stood waiting.

_You'll have to expose yourself to cross this trench...Try and pass me. I will not allow a threat to the guardians, however unlikely that may be._

He looked up, watched a small floating animal approach from directly in front of him. It made no attempt to move erratically or hide its presence. Malek extended his spear, and an energy bolt flashed from his blade. The animal squeaked, careening into a stack of bales and scattering them. A slower tracking bolt followed...the attack could be avoided by taking sharp turns, but it could round corners and hone in on a target. Said bolt scattered the bales. Malek lowered his blade.

"That was...far too easy..." He stepped into the trench and crouched A huge bolt of lightning erupted from close to ground level. A swathe of ground was blasted out above him, tearing to pieces a large section of the arena. Crawling to one side, he vaulted out of the trench and took his battle stance.

Suits of full plate armour were invaluable protection from a knight who knew how to use them. However, they did have some limitations. Restricted vision and noise with every movement being among them. A second lightning bolt from directly above him effectively drove him ankle deep into the grass, but the Ward of the Circle thrust upwards with his spear in answer, prompting a squeak from the machine above him. It spun in an erratic arc away, an initial weapon attachment damaged, distressed squeaks betraying its location. Malek spun his spear, eyes behind the helmet sweeping the field.

**The platform...**

Moebius watched with bemusement as the green dog moved around the platform towards him. He'd seen vampires, and mutants and demons, but this...thing was truly new to him. Just to see what would happen, he summoned a ghostly duplicate of himself and had it intercept the creature

"Yay, sparkles!" The dog rolled onto its back to stare at the 'ghost', before obliterating it with energy beams from its eyes. Moebius began to sweat.

The dog reached him. It shook itself, fell over and wriggled.

_What in the hell?_

Moebius prided himself on his ability to twist any given individual to suit his ends. All one needed to do was discover what they believed was to their benefit, and purport to help them achieve it. Altruists were even easier, once they believed that their actions were conducive to the ultimate good. Even insanity could be dealt with. But for one of the very few times in his life, the Oracle of Nosgoth, the Time Streamer Moebius, was entirely at a loss for how to deal with the being in front of him. His scrying had discovered no discernable weakness in GIR's thoughts –In fact, he'd discovered no predictable patterns of thought at all, making the dog-thing entirely a mystery. As such, it was probably best not to irritate the creature. The Time Streamer said nothing. GIR did nothing.

This continued for some time.

**Elsewhere...**

Malek staggered to his feet, his armour dented and soiled. Four tear gas pellets impacted with his chestplate, as Zim realised he had to do something (GIR had knocked a one paintball gun loose from the platform while running towards Moebius.) An energy bolt from Malek flashed toward the Irken, forcing him to duck behind a stack of bales. Coughing, Malek stepped clear of the gas cloud, advancing on the Irken's position. Between his wounds and the vapour, he wouldn't remain conscious for much longer. Against a child. Humiliating. An energy wave would probably gain him the field, but if his opponents died, they'd be disqualified from this ridiculous game his masters insisted on participating in. He threw himself into a stumbling charge.

Zim retreated, firing paintballs which the knight batted aside...just enough for him to avoid the worst of the gas cloud. He reached the child, and suddenly the moose golem was there. A swat of his blade sent the creature spinning. Malek smiled behind his helmet.

_You may be powerful, little golem, but you don't have enough weight to resist being knocked back by impacts. _

His spearpoint bit into the top of Zim's weapon, spilling paintballs at the Invader's feet. Retreating, the Invader forced Malek to follow him directly through the gas cloud, though the Paladin managed to snatch a breath beforehand. His spearpoint touched the child's throat.

"Yield, now. And we can end this peacefully." He couldn't disguise the raggedness of his breathing.

"Peacefully?" the Irken spat "I am far superior to your kind, human. I have no need to give in. GIR! Come here!" And he stamped hard on a few loose paintballs, releasing a further gas cloud. This time Malek swallowed a lungful and hit his knees again. As GIR arrived, Zim reached into his underling's head and withdrew a horseshoe magnet, which immediately stuck to GIR's eyes. Swinging the SIR Unit in an effort to free the magnet, Zim threw the machine directly into the side of Malek's left knee as the Paladin advanced. Malek hit his knees once more, driving his spear blade-deep into the grass in an effort to keep his balance. Minimoose squeaked in warning from behind the Ward, before unleashing a burst of flame which set the grass ablaze. After the tear gas, the smoke proved too much for the ward of the Circle and Malek the Paladin slowly slipped earthward.

Zim had managed to scramble mostly clear of the blast, although GIR was now on fire. No one paid him much heed. The Irken Team turned to regard to the two remaining pillar guardians.

Moebius, on his platform, had withdrawn a bowl and bottle of water from within his robes, which he had been using to view proceedings.

"They defeated Malek!"

Below, Mortanius blinked.

"Perhaps we need a less direct route to victory." He strode forwards to the entrance of the 'fortress' and waited to see which of the adversaries would seek to challenge him first.

Meanwhile, Zim was darting from cover to cover in an elaborate route towards the guardians. He didn't have much to fear from fire. GIR had left the platform, but that left the Invader and his minions with only one fighter on the ground to deal with. It'd be best to hit him with everything they had, to finish this. So Zim would try to sneak up on him from behind, Minimoose would charge down his throat, and GIR would do...whatever he felt like. Once that was done, they could focus on the man on the platform. With his height, he didn't need to crouch to hide from his opponent's eyes. The one in the black robe had stupidly left his stronghold, providing Zim with an opportunity to reach his back. Counting in Irken, Zim waited for Minimoose to appear directly in front of the skeletal being, before lunging for his back.

He met no resistance, falling through the creature into a heap on the grass. Facing skyward, he caught the skeletal man standing on the platform beside the other fighter.

"A hologram?"

The one with the sideways eight on his forehead smiled. "Illusion. Surprised?"

Zim scrambled to his feet, only to half a half dozen skeleton piling on top of him. Bone was surprisingly heavy.

Minimoose squeaked in distress. None of his weapons were capable of removing the skeletons without striking his master, and he didn't have the physical strength to remove them on his own.

Which left him fighting alone, against the necromancer and the Time-Streamer, with whatever limited assistance GIR could provide.

He spat flame from his weapon attachments at the two guardians. When the flames cleared, the platform was on fire, and both mages were gone. Spinning, he located the necromancer standing on the edge of the flames behind him, just before lightning burst from the Death Guardian's forearms. Answering with his flamethrower, Minimoose advanced. Mortanius disappeared with and afterglow of teleportation magic, launching lightning from above the machine as soon as he arrived on the platform.

Moebius watched this from his position a short distance along the platform. He didn't quite have the power to intervene in situations such as this, his skills lay in more indirect battles. That wasn't to say he could hold his own against ordinary adversaries, but between these two behemoths these he would be little more than a distraction.

_Distraction? Hmm._

He unleashed a lightning bolt from his right hand. It was nothing compared to Mortanius' −little more than a sting, in fact, but it homed in on its target and was difficult to escape without a magical barrier of some variety.

Minimoose didn't see it coming, concerned with Mortanius' attack. It impacted off his weapons attachment, almost inconsequential in its effect, but prompting a hesitation in the wepons discharge. That was enough for Mortanius to seize the opening, the full force of his attack driving the golem back with a squeal to where it landed on the platform directly opposite. In a heartbeat Moebius was there, his hands closing on the machine before it could recover. The glow of teleportation magic engulfed them both, rematerialising in the paintball arena's car park.

Deadpool blew his whistle. "Out of bounds! With Zim pinned, that's game to the old guys! What's the elementary education system coming to?"

Moebius hastily teleported beyond the immediate reach of the angry golem, trying not to pant. That had been far closer a match that he was comfortable with.

* * *

Back in their hotel room, Malek knelt.

"I'm sorry, my Lords. I failed you."

Moebius placed his hand on the knight's shoulder

"No. Not yet."


	3. Vs Order of the Stick

_So, round 2. This one involves the Pillar Guardians clashing with their opponents through the medium of a board game. Surprisingly fun to write. My opponents are from a webcomic, it's worth taking a look at. _

**Pillar Guardians vs. Order of the Stick(LordGambit508) **

Malek's polearm split the table in front of him.

"Well, My Lords? I spoke last time of parlour games. Now they have a knight, a necromancer, and an oracle _literally_ playing games for this tournament of yours?"

Moebius looked up at him. "Actually, I find this quite refreshing. Can you imagine Vorador and I staking our lives on a chess match?"

"But we don't know the rules! Have you ever before heard of this 'Scrabble' they're asking of us?"

"No. But it's a game of words. Have you ever known anyone my equal when it comes to spinning webs with language?"

"Of course not, my lord, but your opponents are not among those I know of! Our opponents in this tournament are capable of surprises, we've seen that with that pathetic child!"

"Ah, but Malek, you are failing to consider something of considerable importance."

"And what is that?"

"Firstly, I will not be playing alone, so no single misstep can cost us all. Secondly, I don't believe our opponents are any more familiar with this game than ourselves. Thirdly, of course...We'll cheat."

"Ah. Of course."

* * *

Sakyo stepped out of his stretch limo, resisting the urge to glance skyward. It was a gamble, but it wasn't as though he was a stranger to taking risks. Death by Chocolate wanted a report on the tournament's progress, and of course he would not make a personal visit. Sakyo was expendable, and he knew it, but it was unlikely BORED would waste the Lotus on him, and reveal it to the world. _The Daily Planet_ were preoccupied with a mysterious disappearance on their staff, but would probably still notice if someone was obliterated from space. So all he had to worry about were snipers, car bombs and the like.

Xykon was in the air, though which made any snipers unlikely. An undead dragon above them tended to make assassins rethink their career choice. All that said, Sakyo took a long breath when he finally made it inside the doors to the Metropolis International Convention Centre, the venue for the next stage of the tournament. This round was truly going to be a titanic clash, with the Contestants matching wits in _Monopoly, Cluedo, Scrabble, Bullshit, Risk_, and _Trivial Pursuit._ Sakyo had to admit, he was curious as to how it would turn out.

The undead dragon landed in the foyer, and Xykon, Lich Sorceror and Conqueror of the Paladin Stronghold Azure City, clicked his way into the building. Roughly thirty brown robed cultists followed in his wake with an assortment of weapons, Death by Chocolate's effort to protect his investment. Ascending to a small dais reserved for non participants, Sakyo glanced up as someone touched his arm.

Count Dracula smiled. "I don't believe we've met?"

Two huge feral wolves were on either side of the new BORED member, neither leashed, but he seemed to have little difficulty controlling them. Sakyo could tell with a glance that the two alone would slaughter at least a third of his cultists before being brought down, but by then, Dracula would be long gone. There'd be no value in treachery here.

"Sakyo Valdez. No, you joined after I...left. Why was that?"

"I'm undying. I don't need to fear damnation."

"I see. And you're here as a sponsor to..."

"The Order of the Stick." Xykon, standing beside the ex-BORED executive, didn't twitch.

"I'm not familiar with them. My team are Pillar Guardians, they run a crusade to eradicate vampires."

Dracula blinked, before slowly starting to smile. "A dangerous pastime. I wish them well." His eyes flickered red for an instant. The two sponsors settled back to watch the Contestants arrive.

Malek, as always, arrived ahead of his fellows, spear in hand. Then Moebius, the building's plush red carpeting clashing horribly with his characteristic purple robe, followed by a pair of clawed wraiths and the Necromancer. They'd spent most of the previous night familiarising themselves with the rules of this word game they would be playing...which would not leave them at their peak of ability, but better that than entirely ignorant. Moebius had revealed a tendency to wait for an extremely high scoring move before striking with devastating results, while Malek mostly took the simple options. He didn't make grand designs, but seldom made a mistake, making him almost more dangerous. Mortanius wasn't quite the dancer the Time Streamer was, but he could surprise with knowledge of medical and religious terms. They probably couldn't contest masters of the game, but Moebius was confident they could at least force their opponents to take them seriously.

The Time Streamer scanned the dais. Sakyo advanced to meet them, stopping short at the base of the steps, accompanied by an undead and four robed cultists. The lich was no mindless servant, though, scanning the room with an aura of mild boredom despite having no facial expression to convey this. The Oracle addressed his sponsor.

"I didn't expect to see you here personally."

"Thought I'd keep an eye on things...I don't expect treachery."

Moebius smiled. "You say that to _me?_"

Another man advanced to his side, this one in a waistcoat. "Moebius, correct? Instigator of the Sarafan Purge?"

"Correct. Yourself?"

"Count Vlad Dracula." The Time Streamer saw the man's irises flash red. A human would not have noticed the Time Streamer's slightly increased heartrate, but Dracula gifted him with a thin smile.

_No...I can't be sure. This is a new world to me._

"An honour to make your acquaintance, sir." The Time Streamer extended a hand. He'd seen the greeting used in this plane, although in Nosgoth the more correct etiquette would be a salute or bow. Dracula continued to smile, obliging him. As they shook, the Time Streamer's thumb glided over the Count's wrist.

_No pulse. Cold skin. Hair on the knuckles, which can happen if they spend too much time in wolf form. This one is powerful, and I left my staff behind._

There was a clatter from the entrance. "Xykon!" Another team had just entered, and were unlimbering weapons. Malek stepped between his charges and the drawn blades, which grouped the pillar guardians at the base of the dais, apparently arranged to protect the sponsors. The new group's leader, (Roy, if Moebius' scrying was to be believed) took a sharp step forward.

"I don't know who you are, but don't make us cut through you. We're here for the lich."

Sakyo glanced at his bodyguard. "You know them?"

Xykon hesitated, then shook his head. "They look familiar, but..."

After whispering instructions to his teammates, Roy burst into a sprint, green-hilted sword springing into his grip. Four cultists stood up.

"Blade Barrier!" At the base of the dais, a screen of flashing blades arose, bringing Roy to a halt. He could push through if necessary, but against someone like Xykon, he'd need to be at full strength in the battle, and the Lich wasn't alone. Cutting through the guards would...probably start a riot, to no good purpose. Very reluctantly, Roy sheathed his sword, as Vaarsuvius raised her hands to counter any magic sent their way.

"You killed my father's master!"

Xykon cocked his head. "I did? So...You're coming to avenge the death of some dude you've never even met? Just who are you?"

"...What? You don't know? All the recent events of your life have revolved around me!"

"Nope, still nothing. Listen, kid, I'm contracted to guard this guy right now. We can settle up later if you like. Right now, just sit back and do what you're paid for."

"Agreed." Dracula said "Fulfill your obligations to me under the tournament, and I'll arrange matters to your satisfaction. I guarantee it."

Moebius retreated from the base of the dais. Fists clenched tight. He'd seen enough Elder vampires to know that they didn't die easily. If he forced battle, he'd need a situation where the odds were stacked in his favour.

_I f we win this tournament, I can claim his head as my prize._ And suddenly, the tournament was more than a game, and the Oracle was without his omniscience.

_God. Help me. Please._

The Oracle of Nosgoth spun to face the Order of the Stick, robe flaring.

"So, you want to claim this undead creature for yourself? I fear you will not succeed, not while we stand here. For I plan to claim my own prize. Enough wordplay, then! Lay on, mortals! It's time to duel!"

Moebius was mystified by the fit of giggles that consumed Sakyo's cultists.

* * *

Pillar Guardians and Order of the Stick took their seats.

"Yeah, enough wordplay. Let's play Scrabble." Roy's teeth flashed.

"This hardly seems fair. There are six of you."

Moebius raised his head. "Tell me...Belkar, would you be interested in a job offer?"

The halfling's eyes narrowed. "What kind?"

"Belkar..." Roy warned.

"Hired killer. You keep the spoils of any Elder vampires you slay."

"Hmm..."

"Belkar, I can activate the Mark of Justice any time..."

"Mark of Justice?"

"A curse that stops me from killing living things inside a town. Roy can activate it too."

"I see...well, my order has many powerful mages. You can't aid us, but I would suggest standing aside, provide for your future. Bear in mind one thing ..._Vampires aren't alive! _But they fear, and heal quickly. One can inflict unimaginable horrors on a vampire body before they expire. Think on it."

Belkar considered a while, then pushed back his chair. "Sorry Roy. I've got my future to consider."

"What? Belkar!"

"It's no use, Roy. Evil manipulator. Special ability: Turning team members against each other. There's nothing we can do." Elan settled in his chair as the Time Streamer turned his eyes on him.

"Evil? I'm curious as to how you arrived at that conclusion."

"Well, y'know, robe, fragile appearance, deep voice. Plus you're defending a Necromancer. Necromancers are _always _evil. So are undead. Undead necromancer? Evil!"

Malek's mailed fist crashed down on the table. "Mortanius is one of the only truly altruistic people I have ever met. You would be wise to−" The Necromancer caught his arm.

"Paladin, I can speak for myself in this." He turned his eyes to the bard. "Why do you consider necromancy an evil art?"

"Your servants are have to do what you say,forever. They can't escape."

A sigh. "Most of the time, I bind corpses, not souls. If the soul is gone, what need have they for the body? And when I do bind souls, I bind them back into their body. I strike _deals, _bard. They gain the opportunity to retread the material plane for a time in exchange for service to me. On occasion, I can be their path to revenge or some other goal they failed in life. They are free to choose instead to wander the realm of the dead eternally until they are snared by some predator of lost souls. As for undeath, in itself it is not an insight into moral character. But, if it eases your mind..." Mortanius passed a hand before his face, dismissing his mask and revealing his all too human face. "So, am I still evil to your mind, bard? For accepting a role I was _born_ to? The attitude is familiar to me."

Pause. Moebius began to speak again.

"So, if we are not clearly evil, what does that make you and your order? Tell me, what is the purpose of this 'Order' of yours?"

"To defeat the Lich Xykon."

"And you think yourself 'good'?"

"Shut up..." This from Roy.

"Why? If you're secure in your virtue, you have nothing to fear from me. Why do you feel the need to defeat this Lich?"

"He's evil!"

"...So it has nothing to do with your leader's dead father's master, then? Tell me, Roy, were you on very good terms with him?"

The fighter glanced down.

"Ah! Not so altruistic now, are you? This quest is based on personal revenge, bard. And you dare to call _me _a force for evil? I lead a crusade to eradicate vampires, creatures who by definition must constantly prey on humanity. Will you disband once Xykon falls to you? What will you do then, bard? Tell the story, which you have witnessed, yes? And go down in history as one of the great storytellers no doubt. You showed with your appraisal of me your familiarity with tales of virtue. Your goal is to carve out glory for yourself and your comrades, and don't pretend otherwise."

Elan the bard stared at him for a long moment, then fled the table.

"Wait!" The archer followed in his wake

_Ah. They're in love. Good, two birds with one stone._

He glanced sideways. "Have the odds been reduced to your satisfaction, Paladin?"

"Enough? Perhaps. Shall we draw tiles?"

They obliged, the Time Streamer finding himself under a certain regard from his opponents. Once all four players drew their seven tiles (Durkon had difficulty with anything other than his own particular dialect, forcing Mortanius to step aside to keep the teams even), Roy gestured for him to begin.

"Take care, Roy...much as it pains me to agree with our bard, this one fits his role." The mage, pointed ears twitching, stared like a drill.

"Does that make my words any less true? Truly, Roy, thin−"

"Shut up. I'm not as easily distracted as my bard, you won't break my focus...I know what you're trying to do. How does it feel to have him at your side, you other two? "

"Don't try to play my game, Fighter. You're outmatched, I hold all the cards." And Moebius laid tiles on the field. ACE, across the central square. _Show me, Order. What are you capable of?_ He drew forth his replacement tiles. _Q. Useless without a U._

Next, Varsuuvius. The mage's ears twitched. CHERRY, Double Word Score. Moebius' eyes might have flickered, but no outsider could discern anything from their dull grey surface. Knight and necromancer were both masked, so any keen eye had only the Time Streamer's face to deal with, which Moebius had spent centuries schooling to appear exactly how he wished it to be. Nonetheless, the elf mage's teeth glinted.

Roy Greenhilt. The leader of the self proclaimed 'Order of the Stick', composed of a full six members. There was something in his eyes...

BRACE, using Moebius' initial gambit on its heels. Statement of intent. Oracle met fighter's stare.

"I won't lose." Both spoke in the same moment.

Malek, to close the round. VAMBRACE. The players sat back in their chairs. Double Word score, using a rare letter. Moebius didn't try to hide his smile, watching the mage spit in rage.

Back to Moebius. Abstention, and exchange of letters with the drawstring bag.

Varsuuvius. Under the table, Moebius let a lightning bolt leap from his hand, stinging her thigh. The elf slid back her chair with teeth bared, hands rising.

"Chain Lightn−" Mortanius had been watching for exactly this kind of thing, and his two wraiths took the elf off her feet. Varsuuvius, if Moebius' scrying could be believed, was absurdly powerful, but she had to speak to channel her powers, which meant that the Pillar Guardians could react more quickly. Malek's spear stretched across the table, where, to his mild surprise, it met and was held by Roy's sword. Then Deadpool was in their midst, unlimbering a pair of handcannons with enough fluidity to make the Oracle nervous.

Varsuuvius clenched a fist on her nearest wraith. "Disintegrate." And the creature was ashes. Eyes blazing, the mage gained her feet, obliterating the second wraith as four more emerged from black portals at floor level.

"That's enough!" Somehow, neither Sakyo Valdez nor Vlad Dracula had any difficulty making themselves heard. "The next Contestant to commit a violent act within these walls is going to be cut loose from our protection!"

The Contestants didn't quiver in fear, but they didn't continue to attack either.

"I believe," said Mortanius with a ghost of a smile (his Deathmask was capable of conveying emotions if he chose, to the point where some believed it his true face) "It may be time for a short break."

With the Necromancer and Dwarf guarding the table, the players obliged.

When Moebius returned, he brought with him an opaque mug of water. No one thought to comment on it, nor his habit of staring into its depths while considering his next move. The mage's ears twitched, but she couldn't comment, both of them having been forced to agree to a vow of silence before being allowed to return to their seats. Besides, Moebius could then draw attention to the handmirror stowed in the sleeve of her robe.

Two mages, both with centuries of experience of human thought and playing with words. Two warriors, both almost unrivalled among their own. And they were sitting at the same table, playing a word game. How the world trembled.

Pale tiles built patterns across the board, an intricate expanding web of possibilities. With both viewing each other's tile racks, the two took pleasure in thwarting potential options, dancing around each other's matrices of words. Thus far, Varsuuvius took care to avoid placing a 'U' anywhere he could use. Technically, he could abandon his 'Q', but somehow that felt like a concession, a _cheat._ (As opposed to staring into his mug, which merely gave him an edge.)

Meanwhile, Malek and Roy played on, caught up in their own duel, pulling words from nowhere, military terms referring to obscure segments of plate armour or weaponcare such as schynbalds or faulds. There was some dispute over spelling occasionally, but knight and fighter rarely contested a word's existence. Moebius ought to have paid more attention, but he was fully occupied with his own adversary.

He was sweating more than when the immortal wraith Raziel closed claws on his throat, an event waiting some four centuries in his future.

Time passed. Tiles dwindled. With less than a minute until the two hour time limit expired, Moebius and Varsuuvius were on a shared score. Her move. The drawstring bag was empty, both of them had five tiles each. It would come down to this.

Varsuuvius played her hand. QUICK. 20 points. And she'd finally handed him a U he could use, the others being deposited in awkward corners. _Mistake? ...No._

He had only one true option with his remaining letters. SQUID. Score of 15. Moebius the Time Streamer had lost the game.

Malek's helmet turned. "What's a squid?"

"A sea creature of some kind. I have not seen one, and I don't particularly wish to. I'm told they're repulsive." He'd been told the tidbit by a fisherman while investigating a vampiric murder in the early days of the Sarafan Order.

Malek returned his attention to the game, and Moebius realised with a shock that the Paladin was well ahead. While Varsuuvius and Moebius had been caught up in outdoing each other with grand designs, the Paladin and his opponent had been steadily if unimaginatively raising their prospective scores, eventually passing out both their teammates. Roy had tried valiantly, but Malek had begun the game with a substantial lead and he'd never quite managed to close.

"That's game to the armoured dude. Wow, you take your scrabble seriously."

There was heaviness to Roy's step as he stood up. The creature clearly did want that lich, badly. The Time Streamer caught his arm.

"We aren't necessarily enemies. If you don't impede me, I won't seek to prevent you claiming that lich's head. By this tournament's end, we will likely need all our concentration for other matters. There's no need for unnecessary conflict, we may even be of use to each other. Bear that in mind."

Tired eyes met the featureless greyness of the Time Streamer's. "I don't trust you."

"Few do."

"But...find me Xykon's phylactery, his soul vessel, and we'll stay out of your way."

_Hah...foolish, fighter. You've just handed me a window into your motivation. This, I can use._

"Done."


End file.
